Frustrated Affection

The following chapter two in a book I'm writing for the

Invalid Item  This item number is not valid. #921408 by Not Available.

(can be read out of order.)

}How could two small children make such a mess? Sue looked into the living room from the kitchen doorway and wondered. The boys, Skyler, seven, and Scottie five, laughed and played sweetly on the PSII. Some Sponge Bob game they had tried to teach her earlier. Twenty minutes she was gone. To the back of the house. Taking a quick shower. And now, the kitchen table was covered with Apple Cinnamon Cheerios and white splashes of milk. The empty box lay on its side on the floor. Nala, the lab stood happily lapping up a puddle of milk off the floor. Walking towards the sink, Sue tripped over a spoon. “Ouch” she yelled louder than was necessary. Her muscles ached. Physically tired, she just did not want to clean another mess. Boys had much more energy than girls. Or maybe it was because she was older now and had less patience with kids. Especially since she didn’t give birth to either of them.

Skyler and Scottie arrived at the Morgan household one week ago bringing with them Nala, two suitcases full of dirty clothes, and a promise that their father would return at the end of the month. He needed break, he said, from life. Don’t we all? The thought of walking out of everything was an unreachable fantasy Sue would never have the courage to pursue. She sat down at the table for a moment. Brushing a few Cheerios to the floor. When he did finally come back, he’d be moving in with her family, to get back on his feet. Two years had past; Michael Bivin’s was still struggling to get back on his feet.

Gathering her thoughts, she devised a quick plan of action. Sklyer and Scottie needed a mother figure. Not some whiney thirty something year old aunt who had no energy. They needed discipline. They needed boundaries. Somehow, these responsibilities had found their way onto the lap of Aunt Suzie.

“Are the gremlins here yet?” She called out, in the direction of the boys. Skyler Davis turned to look at his aunt, “Huh?”

“The gremlins. Are they here yet?”

“Gremlins?” Sklyer jumped to his feet, dropping the keypad.
“Yes. The brown haired ones.” The ones who eat Apple cinnamon Cheerios.”

With quick steps, Sue walked over to the PSII and cut it off.

“There isn’t enough cereal to feed them either.” Her arms crossed, “They’ll still be hungry. And you know what their second favorite thing to eat is?

She paused. The boys exchanged serious looks and then glanced back at their aunt. “What?” Scotties tiny voice asked, filled with curiosity.

“Little boys!” squealed Sue as she lunged down to tickle them both. They wrestled, shrieked, and laughed on the living room carpet. Then, Sue stood up, winking at Sklyer. “C’mon. “Let’s sprinkle the gremlin food outside in the backyard.”

“Okay.” Scottie agreed, jumping up. Skyler, however saw right through his aunt’s ruse. He opened his lips to protest but Sue cut him off with the palm of her hand. She lowered her face to his ear. “Big brothers who help their favorite aunt’s get extra Hershey’s kisses with their afternoon snacks tomorrow.”

Smiling, all three headed for the kitchen.

“Let’s put all the cheerio crumbs on this paper plate.’” Sue handed Sklyer a thin white plate. She gave Scottie a rag. “The Mommy gremlin would really love it if you wiped the table. She’ll be in tonight after the kids eat the Cheerios. She’ll sneak around the cupboards looking for chocolate. For their dessert.”

Scottie’s little hand grabbed hold of the terrycloth rag and wiped in larges circles across a small area of the table. “Aunt Suzie?”

“Yes dear.”

“Don’t you think the Daddy gremlin will like to lick the milk off the table instead?”

Good point. How did kids get to be so smart? “No.” Sue said, cutting her eyes in Sklyer’s direction.

“Scottie. You know Daddy’s don’t like messy tables when they get home from work.”

Sue patted Sklyer’s back. He had just earned two more Hershey kisses.

Quickly the three cleaned up the counters, table, and floor and loaded dishes into the dishwasher. They carefully carried the Apple Cinnamon Cheerios out to the back yard. Sue dropped down in an old patio chair. “Crush them in your hands and sprinkle them across the grass.” It doesn’t take much to entertain little ones. It was almost like hiding Easter eggs for a hunt. The boys scattered the crumbs everywhere; behind the grill, over by the pool, underneath chair where Sue sat. Little bodies running with boundless energy; zig zagging through the yard, playing tag.

Three more weeks, till their father returned. Could her thirty eight year old muscles survive? More importantly, could she survive the sight of her brother, his soul, in visible torment?